


Hearthstones

by Savorybreakfasts



Series: Flames [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Stitch In Time, Angst, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Facials, Hair-pulling, Hand-feeding, Honesty kink, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Lots Of Feelings, Praise Kink, Sequel, Slightly Awkward Dom!Julian, Spanking, Sub!Garak, Wax Play, lots of tags, negotiating boundaries, sorry can’t not write angst, that's a thing right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorybreakfasts/pseuds/Savorybreakfasts
Summary: Garak can't stop thinking about the night in Flame. As they explore more, they build their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

Garak had never kept candles, or lanterns, or any live flame in his quarters. He wouldn’t have admitted the reason, that he was loathe to tease Odo with minor lawlessness. And the attraction he had once felt for Hebitian ritual had long since faded. Despite his love of heat, fire held little appeal. Yet in the weeks since his encounter with Julian he had been fascinated with it. Quark had commented on his increased holosuite usage as he visited his Hebitian sauna again and again, to stare into the coals and the small, flickering flames and lose himself in fantasy. Really, he needed to get a grip on this self-indulgence.

Besides, if he was truly honest with himself, the flame was only the medium.

The fantasy that woke him in the night and intruded on his well-ordered thoughts was the doctor’s control.

Oh, he had relished being tied down. The glint of power in Bashir’s eyes when he pushed himself past his reticence. Julian had enjoyed it, that was clear. But he hadn’t asked for it again. Their sex had been gentle, rough, varied, but always infuriatingly egalitarian.

Garak speculated, but didn’t ask why.

He suspected it was more a sensitivity towards his own imagined feelings than any reluctance on Bashir’s part. If that was true, he could end it with a word. But he didn’t.

Tain had been blown to bits after their failed attempts on the founders homeworld, and with him any interest in Garak. He could be reasonably sure no one cared about the peccadilloes of an aging ex-spy. Surely he had nothing to fear.

And yet.

There was something in that glint in Julian’s eye that undid him. He wanted to see it again, but he could not predict what would happen if he invited it back.

So he waited.

Several days later, after the image had stubbornly refused to stay in the back of his mind, he brought it up casually at lunch in the replimat. “I’ve been thinking about the evening we spent together a few weeks back. I enjoyed it.”

Julian knew immediately which evening. “When I brought over candles? It was quite nice, wasn’t it? I can replicate some more.” He smiled.

Garak didn’t respond immediately. “It was more than the candles, actually. It was your mastery of them.”

Julian leaned in and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Of them, or of you?”

Garak’s eyes quickly flashed about the replimat. Julian sat back. “I’m sorry, of course you don’t have to answer that here.”

Garak lowered his voice and leaned in in turn. “What if I want to?”

He almost cost Bashir his composure and silently cursed himself. That was not what he wanted. But he quickly saw he had underestimated him, again—Julian’s face cooled and that glint came to his eye.

“I think that’s for me to decide, Elim.” He smiled again as he took in Garak’s face. “And I think we should discuss it this evening, in my quarters, 18:00.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, none of that, Elim. We do this sincerely or not at all.” He held Garak’s gaze. “Can you do that for me?”

Garak inhaled deeply but did not break his gaze. “Yes. Yes, Julian.”

Garak was outside Julian’s door at exactly 18:00 hours, willing to risk a comment about Cardassians and their Prussian sense of time (that had required some research to understand, and while he didn’t appreciate it; he had to admit it was an apt analogy.) He had nothing in his hands—no flowers, no bottle. He overrode his sense of manners to arrive open to anything Julian had planned, from the moment he opened the door. Which he finally did, after an agonizing 50 beats. His openness must have been written on his face; Julian looked so pleased. How did he always find himself willing to be seen by this man? It was utterly new and somewhat baffling and he was rushing into it anyway, fool that he was.

Julian guided him to the sofa. “I want to discuss things first. Ground rules, if you will.”

Garak swallowed his impatience and reminded himself to remain open.

“I know last time was the first time with me you surrendered control, in that way. But have you done it before?”

Garak closed his eyes and remembered. How much did he want to reveal? After a moment he decided on just the name. There could be more later.

“Palandine.”

“A Cardassian woman?”

“Yes.”

Julian did not push. “You know I’ve done both. And with all different genders.” He had the grace to blush. “But, well, it’s different with you. And I sort of feel….perhaps it could be more ongoing. Not out of the bedroom. I don’t want that. But something we do more of. When either of us needs it, wants it. There was a feeling it gave me, Garak, I can’t quite describe but I want more of it. And I think you do, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I imagine you want to start tonight.”

“I was hoping we could, yes.”

“Good. I’ve been planning.”

Visions of rope coiled their way through Garak’s mind, resting besides riding crops, restraints...

Julian continued. “For tonight’s scene, you have to tell me the truth.”

“My dear, I—“

Julian held up a hand and smiled.“Garak, please. Despite my reputation for naïveté, I am aware that a good 40% of what comes out of your lovely mouth is a lie.”

“You think my mouth is lovely?”

“Not the point, Elim. And to be quite honest, I’m ok with that. For now anyway. I’m sure it’s part of your allure. But tonight, I want you stripped.”

“Oh, there are so many easier ways to get that, my dear.”

“Easier is exactly what I don’t want. I want you to work for this. I want you to expose yourself to me, to lay bare your desires and beg me to fulfill them. No irony, either. No ‘my dear,’ no self-deprecation. I want you raw.”

Garak didn’t answer.

“Can you do that for me, Elim? Can you give me that?”

Garak met his eyes. They were filled with unguarded desire. How could he think of not reciprocating? “Yes. Yes, Julian.”

Julian’s eyes flashed relief before growing hard again. He stood up and walked to his arm chair, sat back and looked over Garak from top to bottom. “Excellent. Take your clothes off, and get on your knees in front of me.”

Garak complied, removing layers and folding them until he was naked, on the floor in front of Julian’s open legs, resting his bottom on his heels, hands in his lap. Only then did he notice the room was warm. Julian must have adjusted the environmental controls for him.

He gazed up in gratitude. Julian was sprawled comfortably, arms outstretched on the chair-back.

“Now tell me what you want.”

“I want you to be naked, too.”

“To even the power balance?”

“No. Not primarily. I want to see you. I want to see the light shining off your skin. Will you let me?”

Julian leaned over and kissed the top of Garak’s head. “Good boy. Asking so nicely. Yes, you can have that.”

Garak slid back to give him room, and Julian tore his clothes off hastily, throwing them every which way onto the floor. He flashed Garak a wide grin. “I see the self-restraint not commenting on that. Well-done!”

Naked, he sprawled out even more, slouching down and sticking his legs out. How this boy loved to be nude! He reveled in his flesh. Garak drank in the sight. Julian sighed happily, said, “Come closer, love.”

Garak scooched forward, coming between Julian’s thighs. He could feel Julian’s hairs against the scales of his arms, smell the musk of him. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Julian, attentive as ever, noticed. “Would you like to not see?”

Garak raised a shoulder slightly.

“No. Ask. You ask for everything tonight, remember? Open your eyes; look at me, and tell me what you want.”

Garak did. He met Julian’s eyes and said softly, “I liked what I felt when I closed my eyes. It made everything else more intense.”

“You can keep your eyes closed.”

Garak hesitated.

“Tell me. Elim, tell me now.”

“It’s hard for me to keep my eyes closed. It goes against my every instinct.”

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Garak remained silent.

“You can only have what you ask for.”

“I would like for you to blindfold me. I’d like for you to take away the option.”

Another wide smile. “You’re doing so well, Elim. Wait here, I’ll see what I can use.” He returned a moment later with a blue batik sarong he was folding over and over again. “You don’t have to look at it—it’s a blindfold! I happen to think it’s attractive.”

“On you, I’m sure it is.”

Garak rose up on his knees and closed his eyes. Julian wrapped the sarong around, tied it snugly at the back of his head, the ends trailing down onto his upper back. He clenched his fingers in Garak’s hair and pulled his head against his hip. “So beautiful.”

He heard Garak snort.

“No. None of that. You are. To have you at my knees…”

He pulled Garak’s head back, ran a finger over his lips. “Now, tell me exactly what you want.”

Garak inhaled, then took the leap. “I want to suck you. I want to only use my mouth; I want you to tie my hands. I want to taste you and smell you and swallow you.”

He heard Julian’s sharp intake of breath. “Yes. Stay.” Garak clasped his hands behind his back and waited. When Julian returned, he felt him enclose his wrist in a leather cuff, then do the same to the other. “I told you I’ve done this. Pull on them, I want to see you struggle.” Garak obeyed. They held. Julian’s breathing was coming faster, heat radiating from him. He stepped around to be in front of Garak, clenched his hair again and led him forward.

Garak started by nuzzling, tasting, licking, then took the head in his mouth, slid his mouth down, swirling his tongue, taking him in deeper. Julian grasped his hair tighter and pushed him down towards the base. Garak felt a flash of claustrophobia clash with his desire, breathed through his nose and reminded himself of his safe-signal.

He didn’t need it. As he took Julian’s cock deeper, letting Julian push his head down and pull it back up, his breathing fell into a rhythm until he felt transcendent. Julian pulled out as he began to shudder and held Garak in place. Only seconds passed until Garak felt the warm, salty liquid splash his face. Julian ran a finger through it tenderly then rubbed it on Garak’s lips, slid the finger into his mouth. He pulled him forward to rest his head above his hipbone.

“Mine,” he said. “All mine.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Garak brought a picture to lunch, as requested. He removed it from his case and handed it over silently. Julian looked at it for far too long, with far too penetrating a gaze.

“Who is he?”

“His name was Tolan.”

“Yes, but who is he? Why this picture?”

“My dear, I agreed to show you a picture, not to tell you a story.”

He saw Julian file his reaction away and knew he had revealed much with this refusal.

“Can you tell me about his hair?”

“Are you thinking of joining me in the aesthetic professions, Doctor? Turning from mending bodies to styling hair?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m quite good at it. I used to do hair at the Academy, for fun.”

How very Julian Bashir. A way to sate his touch-hunger, care-take, and exercise control at once. “Of course you did. But what are you wondering?”

“Well, it’s clearly not a typical style for a Cardassian man. For starters, there’s quite a lot of it. And I’ve never seen a Cardassian with braids like that.”

Garak remembered Tolan’s braids, heavy on his shoulders as he dug in the dirt of Tain’s estate. It was hotter than they had thought it would be that day. Elim’s hands were still clean; he had only been carrying and handing over tools, and so Tolan had tasked him with gathering his braids, twisting them into a loose knot. He felt special being given this responsibility. He asked Tolan why he wore his hair like this, why he didn’t look like other men. “My hair is my garden,” Tolan had answered, smiling fondly.

Later, Garak saw other men with hair like this, followers of the Oralian way. It was a reckless act of defiance and he flushed in anger remembering. The risks Tolan took!

And Garak was becoming just as foolish—why had he chosen this picture to show Bashir?

“Garak? You’re far away.”

“Oh, no, right here. Tolan...had some old ideas. The hair had a spiritual significance to him.”

Bahar frowned. “That doesn’t sound very Cardassian.”

“It wasn’t!”  Garak took a breath to bring himself back to center. “Now, if you are done discussing outmoded hairstyles of old Cardassian men, I would like to eat.”

That night, Julian had Garak sit on the floor, Garak’s back pressed against the sofa between Julian’s knees. After some time petting him, scratching his head and stroking his neck, Julian spoke.

“I would like to do your hair.”

This wasn’t surprising. What was was the churn of emotions it generated. Garak liked it enough when Julian played with his hair. This felt like something else.

“May I?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Julian.”

“Good. Then let’s go get it washed. You had better take your clothes off; I wouldn’t want them to get wet. I have robes for both of us.”

They changed, and Julian led Garak to the bathroom, to the small octagonal tub, a luxury for which he was grateful to the Cardassian architects of the station. He folded a towel by the edge and led Garak to kneel on it, as he took down the shower attachment. He removed the robe from Garak’s shoulders and bent his neck over the tub, knelt up behind him, and opened the water onto his hair, making it cascade to the front, hair and water flowing over his head, causing him to bring his chin almost to his neck to avoid the deluge. When Julian was satisfied with his hair’s saturation, he took a handful of shampoo and began to lather. He moved his fingers sensually, massaging his scalp, and Garak began to glow with pleasure. Then Julian started to pull.

Garak lost all sense of time. There were Julian’s hands in his hair, hot water, sharp tugs to his scalp and gentle caresses. After what was probably only a few minutes, Julian pulled him back up and cradled him against his chest, his face buried in Garak’s wet hair. Another few minutes, and he wrapped Garak’s hair in a towel and pulled him to his feet, grabbing a bottle of hair oil and a fine-toothed comb as he led him back to the living room. They returned to their respective positions on the sofa and the floor, and Julian unwrapped the towel tenderly, and began massaging oil into Garak’s locks.

“I’m afraid I don’t know any traditional Hebitian hairstyles. Unsurprisingly, that information is not available off of Cardassia, and I suspect on it. But I know a number of braiding styles from Earth, so I’ll use one that was popular among my friends.”

As he spoke, he began parting Garak’s hair with the comb. He started on the first braid, close to the center part on one side. He braided quickly, working from the hairline back, keeping the braid tight against his scalp. His fingers were nimble. Garak could feel his pleasure in the motions. He began to relax even further, and slid down slightly. Julian snapped the comb against his ear.

“Ow!”

Julian was laughing. “I couldn’t help it. I always wanted to do that.”

“Of course you did.” Garak reached up to rub his stinging ear.

“I will need to to sit up and stay still, though, Elim.” He tugged slightly to emphasize his words.

“Yes, Julian.”

“Good.”

He worked the rest of the time in silence. Garak floated into a state of grace. He managed to keep himself alert enough not to nod off or slide down, but only just. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been cared for like this. Perhaps never.

When Julian finished he handed him a mirror. Garak couldn’t name the feelings he experienced as he looked at his reflection. His hair was nothing like Tolan’s, but neither was it proper Cardassian hair. Julian had put in 10 braids that clung to his head and curled out slightly at the nape of his neck. His scalp showed gray between the neat rows of the braids. The braids looked like ridges.

“Julian. I don’t what to say. I look…like someone else.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t. This is something. It’s quite striking. I don’t think I can wear this out, though.”

If Julian was disappointed he didn’t show it. Garak continued.

“I enjoyed it more than I expected. Maybe someday I could let myself be seen like this to others.”

“It’s alright. I’m grateful that you let yourself be seen by me.”

  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

Julian rested his chin on his interlaced fingers and smiled across the replimat table.

“And what is making you so happy?”

“You, Garak. I enjoy watching you eat. You do it with such relish.“

Garak felt Bashir’s eyes sweep over him, taking in the spoon poised over his pudding, the napkin tucked in at his neck. Julian’s smile widened and Garak sighed. “A bit too much relish, I’d say. It’s fortunate I’m a tailor and can let out my own clothes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You look just the same as always. And putting on a certain amount of weight is normal for a Cardassian man your age.”

Garak threw his hands up. “Now we’re bringing up my age? Really, my dear, you could do an old man a favor and pretend not to notice my many flaws. After all, we aren’t all blessed with your svelte figure.”

“Absolutely not. Noticing every inch of you is what I like to do best. And who said anything about flaws?”

“My dear. You can’t deny there are steps I might take to be more attractive.”

“To whom? Are you seeing someone else, Elim? Should I be jealous? I know you can’t be talking about me.”

They sat, stalemated and silent. Julian’s stare continued to challenge him until he raised his palm in a gesture of conciliation.

“Alright, doctor. I’ll accept that you don’t find these things flaws, if only because you lack the skill to lie to me convincingly.”

Julian’s look of triumph was positively infuriating. “Good!” he said. “That settles it. You will continue enjoying your pudding and I will continue enjoying your belly!”

“My dear!” Garak looked around the room quickly and Julian laughed.

“Are you afraid someone might hear that you allow such a terrible liar to rest his head on you? I’ll ruin your reputation?”

Something sparked in Garak at Julian’s teasing, that had been building since that first smug smile. He leaned across the table and whispered, “My dear. Come over tonight and I’ll let you ruin anything you want.”

That evening he put on one of his favorite tunics to prepare. Ivory linen, woven on Bajor, from salam grass spun into the most delicate strands. The fabric had an earthy appearance, but was so soft and pleasing to the touch. Underneath he wore the loose matching pants. He left his feet bare and let his hair fall in loose waves around his face. He smiled as he imagined Julian’s pleasure running his fingers through it. His own pleasure as well, if he were being honest.

The doors slid open. Garak had given him the access code several cycles prior. He told Bashir, and himself, that it was to save himself the strain on his knees of standing to greet him at the door. They both knew his voice could open the door from a seated position, but Julian seemed willing to allow him this deception—simply having the code was enough. For now.

Julian came over to greet him. “No, stay.” He leaned down and they kissed. “I thought we could eat over here on the couch. I’m feeling rather decadent. And I’ll order for us both tonight.”

He ordered an enormous amount of food. Garak didn’t recognize every dish he ordered, but it seemed the replicator did. It produced Bajoran spring wine; Klingon octopus prepared like Earth sushi—with sides of pickled ginger, wasabi and soy sauce; Seltin pâté and crackers, Bajoran shrimp; asparagus with hollandaise sauce; Yorkshire pudding, roast beef and gravy; Yigrish cream pie, Ktarian chocolate puffs, sticky toffee trifle, and Ydrian brandy. Garak’s mouth watered.

Julian brought the heavy laden trays to the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we begin?”

Garak was equally curious and ravenous. “Yes. But what is it you mean to do?”

Julian gestured towards the dishes on the table. “I mean,” he said, “to satisfy you.”

He waved a napkin with a flourish and tucked it into the neck of Garak’s tunic, smiling fondly. Then he poured one glass of spring wine, and set out one plate and set of chopsticks, one knife and fork and spoon. “Now, my dear Garak, I would like you to close your eyes.”

A few seconds later Garak felt something touch his lips. He opened his mouth and felt a piece of food be placed on his tongue. Rice. The octopus sushi. Julian withdrew the chopsticks and Garak chewed. Klingon food wasn’t his favorite, but the textures were fascinating. After he swallowed Julian touched his lower lip with a finger, prompting him to open again. “To clear your palate,” he said, and placed a slice of pickled ginger on Garak’s tongue. As soon as it was out of the way, he kissed him deeply. “You can open your eyes.”

Julian was smiling and holding the glass of spring wine. He handed it to Garak who took a sip. “That was...different.”

Julian frowned. “Should we stop?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good.” Julian reached for the pâté and scooped a fingerful. Garak gazed openly, and Julian allowed it. He put the finger in Garak’s mouth and only pulled it back a centimeter as Garak swallowed the rich pâté. “Lick it clean,” he said, his voice rough. Garak obliged.

Julian’s eyes were beginning to glaze. He pulled his fingers away and brought a small cracker to Garak’s lips with little fanfare. Garak chewed and swallowed, and was given another sip of spring wine. This time Julian held the cup to his lips, tilting it gently, then giving him another kiss.

A bite of shrimp, and then next was a spear of asparagus. Julian had served this before, but only in his present state did Garak take note of its shape. And the drizzle of sauce, “Rather suggestive, isn’t it?”

Julian stopped his hand, asparagus held out in front of Garak’s lips, “Quiet, you.” This time when he placed the food in his mouth Garak bit down, a millimeter shy of Bashir’s fingers. Julian grabbed his hair with his free hand, “Oh, naughty. Do you want me to show you what happens to boys who don’t eat their supper nicely?” This was new. Garak inhaled sharply, flicked his eyes up at Julian then deliberately looked down. “After the meal,” Julian said. “We still have the main.”

Garak followed Julian’s fingers as he tore off a piece of the bread-like substance he called a Yorkshire pudding. He expected sweetness from the name, and watched Julian dredge it through a velvety brown sauce. He was surprised at the surge of salt that hit his taste buds. The bread was eggy and rich, the gravy savory. He chased every bit of it from Julian’s fingers.

“Ah, it figures you’d appreciate a Sunday roast. Very respectable.” Julian rolled a thin slice of the beef and fed it to him, bite by bite, allowing Garak to lick his fingers clean, then followed with more of the pudding and gravy. He continued until Garak was satisfied, then held the spring wine to his lips.

“Dessert now?” Garak inquired.

“Mmm. First we have to deal with you almost biting off my fingers. Is that any way to show appreciation?”

Garak knew his part and was happy to play it. He cast his eyes down, “No, Julian.”

“I didn’t think so. What do you think happens now?”

“Punishment?”

Julian kissed him. “Clever boy. Over my knee.”

This was different. Palandine had brought him to his knees, to tears, to orgasm, with expert application of pain. She had never treated him this way. Garak caught a glimpse of Julian’s face as he hesitated—behind the mask of authority he saw anxiety, desire, and sheer delight. Yes. He would surrender deeper. He arranged himself over Julian’s lap and allowed him to pull up his tunic and down his pants.

“Ten, I think. Count them.”

The first smack surprised him with its impact, reminded Garak again of the strength in the doctor’s slight frame. “One.”

He delivered the strokes with the regularity of a metronome, increasing intensity with each. By six Garak was gasping, by nine having trouble holding himself in place. The last blow brought tears to his eyes that he quickly blinked away, “Ten.”

“Oh, Elim. Oh, my good boy. You did so well. Oh, your arse is so dark.” Julian stroked him lightly as he spoke, enjoying his handiwork. Then he slid down the sofa and lifted Garak’s legs to free himself as he moved from the couch to the floor and knelt by Garak’s abused bottom. “There will be dessert, but first I have to kiss you better.”

He brought his lips to the fine, smooth scales, kissing gently and making sure he hadn’t done any damage. Then he kissed lower, spreading Garak’s legs slightly to reach the bottom of his slit and teasing it with his tongue. The pressure to evert grew. Julian pulled back, “Not before I say you can.” He continued to rim him. The sensation was amazing, unfamiliar. After what felt like an age he gasped, “Julian, please!”

Julian pulled his head up from between Garak’s legs. “Something you’d like?”

“Let me evert. Please. Let me show you. That’s all.”

“Hmm. Sit up. Spread your legs.” Garak obliged and Julian moved between his knees. He said, “I want you to evert in my mouth.”

Garak stared. Julian, on his knees, asking him for such a display of sexual dominance? It made no sense. But following Julian’s strange ideas had brought him nothing but pleasure so far, and it was what his body was calling for, and so he allowed it.

And oh, the warmth of that human mouth. He hardly felt dominant as Julian sucked and licked and nibbled at his ridges, leaning his forearms on Garak’s thighs and grasping his hip ridges with vise-like fingers. Julian pulled off briefly to say, “I want you to come whenever you want.”

Garak tried to hold back after that, at least a little bit, at least enough to befit a man his age. A man his age, who had been hand-fed and thoroughly spanked, and rimmed into an altered state of consciousness, and now was being sucked off with ferocity. He looked at the brown head in his lap, hair disheveled, the thin shoulders, and as his ecstasy built he realized that he had let this young man past barriers a wiser man would have guarded. He had handed it all over, and worse, he didn’t even regret it. All he wanted was it to never end.

The waves of his orgasm crashed, and he thrashed around as Julian held him in place firmly, stubbornly, keeping his mouth in place and swallowing. Garak fell back gasping as Julian removed himself, wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, and flashed his most triumphant smile.

Garak closed his eyes and Julian joined him sprawled on the couch. They stayed there a long time before either one thought about dessert.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I discovered in my post-canon Cardassia story that I’m incapable of writing angst without smut. Apparently the reverse is also true.

“So I hear you are taking Leeta on a romantic getaway to Risa.” Julian put his fork down and waited. Garak continued, “She’s a remarkable woman. I don’t know how I would feel about sharing you.”

Julian drew a breath then spoke. “Ok, Garak. I’m going to leave aside the hypothetical phrasing of that, and answer your question about Leeta.”

“I wasn’t aware I had asked a question.”

“Garak.”

“Alright, doctor, do continue.”

“It isn’t a romantic weekend. Leeta and I are going to Risa to perform the Bajoran rite of separation.”

“A rite of separation?”

“Yes. It’s quite a lovely idea, actually. A way to part lovingly and honor what we had.”

“I hope when we part you won’t expect such mawkish sentimentality.”

“Of course not. How silly of me to think a loving relationship should be ended lovingly.”

Garak looked up sharply, but Bashir’s eyes were already on the salad he was stabbing. Really, what right did Julian have to anger? Garak had been perfectly willing to engage in their relationship with few expectations, leaving Bashir free to pursue more appropriate companions.

“My dear. I hope this separation isn’t due to me.”

“What if it was? Would that be so bad?”

“I wouldn’t want to cause you unhappiness.”

“You really don’t understand. Well, for your information, this is an entirely mutual break up being carried out by two healthy, self-actualized adults!” His voice rose over the speech until Garak worried about an audience. Julian saw him glance around anxiously. “Oh, for God’s sake, Garak! No one cares; no one is listening, and what do you have to lose if they were?! It isn’t as though there’s anyone left for them to report to.”

Garak schooled his face. He would not show the impact of those words. “Of course, doctor. I do apologize. I wish you and Leeta a wonderful rite.” He removed the napkin from his shirt and folded it on top of his tray. “Will I see you before you go?”

The shame on Julian’s face was almost enough to make Garak relent. Almost. “Yes. I was hoping we could have a night. If I haven’t completely ruined things.”

“My dear. You are hardly capable of ruining anything, save nice clothing. Of course we can see each other. Tomorrow night at 19:00? My quarters? Now, I really should be getting back to the shop.”

Garak fussed with clearing their trays, stood and began to walk to the recycler. Julian’s voice behind him was strangled. “Elim. I’m sorry.”

He kept walking and pretended not to hear.

Julian arrived early the next night. Garak could hear him outside, hesitating, deciding whether to ring. He rose and signaled for the door to open, startling Julian. “Well, come in.”

Julian entered and stood in the middle of the room looking lost. Finally he spoke. “I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“My dear.”

“No, don’t, don’t _my dear_ me. Let me tell you. What I said, about no one left to report to, it was out of line. All I ever think about is how glad I am that that man is no longer around to hurt you. I forget your loss, whoever he was to you. And I don’t understand it. I still know next to nothing of your past, and I don’t understand it.” He paused. His eyes were glittering and he struggled to continue. “When I saw you looking around the room all I saw is you being afraid someone would see us arguing and know what I mean to you. All I felt was you putting that wall up. I was angry and I said something inexcusable. Forgive me?”

“I could hardly say no. But my dear, I’m sorry, _Julian_ , why were you angry? That wall is for both of us! That wall is what allows you to have a companion like Leeta.”

“No, no, no! That’s what you tell yourself! But if we wanted to I could see Leeta, see anyone, and still see you, really see you. You don’t keep me out because I have another lover. That isn’t the issue and you know it!”

“Then what is? I haven’t sufficiently bared my soul to you in the six months we’ve been doing this?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it!” Bashir shouted.

Garak saw the precise moment when Julian really heard himself, and his anger turned to laughter. Garak felt his own expression soften. “Oh, my dear.”

“I suppose it isn’t really a fair expectation, is it?” Julian took his hand and lead him to the couch. “I tend to that, I suppose. Wanting too much. I have to admit my expectations have been growing. I’ve been feeling rather possessive of you lately. You might have noticed,” he said with a bashful smile. “So when Leeta and I started drifting apart…”

“You thought you and I could just drift together?”

“Oh, God, I really am awful, aren’t I?”

“It’s part of your charm.”

“It took me awhile to realize I hadn’t talked about this to you. That I haven’t talked about any of my feelings for you, not outside of bed anyway. And, Garak, I want more. I want you and I want more.”

He waited. Garak knew he should make this harder. The arrogance of him, truly. What would he get for letting him in? A year from now Julian expecting him to sit over a candle and recite poetry about letting go, because he was ready to move on to the next thing that got his pulse racing? The love that Garak had harbored secretly, that had been building over these encounters, could he really expect it to be returned? He looked at Julian. His face was open, unguarded, filled with hurt and remorse and hope. As unlikely as it seemed, here they were.

“Yes. Yes, Julian. I want it, too.”

Julian pulled him into his arms. They really were surprisingly strong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been imagining this version of them taking place seasons 4–5, because I like the idea of them getting together while still holding secrets, and I always thought the, “lunch at my place in Hong Kong” line was suggestive of a beginning. But I realized that that is also Leeta’s time with Bashir—and I love Leeta, she’s one of my favorite characters, and the rite of separation was something that I adored—I didn’t want to shove her out of the way for Garashir. So, polyamory. I hope the retcon isn’t too jarring and I promise the next chapter will have some good kinky sex.


	6. Chapter 6

“You’ll stay the night?”

“If you’ll still have me.”

“You honestly need to ask?” Garak curled deeper onto his chest as Julian played with his hair.

“Did you really like the braids?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you want to tell me more about their significance?”

Garak smiled. “Perhaps another time.” He sat up and looked at Julian. “Tell me something else you want.”

He answered as though prepared. “I want you to fuck me into next Tuesday. I want to feel you for a week.”

“That can be arranged.” Garak leaned forward and kissed him. “Bedroom?”

They made their way to Garak’s bed. His love of textiles continued here—Julian had once commented that he had never seen so many throw pillows and bolsters and blankets on a bed as Garak had, and he included in that his elderly aunt in Sussex. But Garak knew he loved it, loved to be propped up and adored. Garak began to divest him of his clothing, slowly, folding each item and putting it neatly on the chair. He removed his own clothing as well. When they were both nude, he arranged Julian in his nest of pillows, brought his mouth to his delicate neck, and went to work. He was gentle, methodical, taking his mouth away at times to narrate his travels down Julian’s body.

Julian’s body. He was Garak’s first human lover, so he supposed he didn’t have a basis for comparison, but it was hard to imagine another more perfect. It was achingly vulnerable. Gold and rose, smooth skin and soft fur and everything right there for the taking. He licked a stripe down his torso then brought his mouth back to his nipples, taking one, then the other in his mouth, sucking and rolling and flicking his tongue, eliciting the most obscene noises. Julian fisted the bed sheets and Garak could tell he was resisting the urge to grab his hair and push his head down lower, and he adored him for it. The self-restraint was entirely Julian setting a challenge for himself; they both knew Garak would not mind at all. Julian was trying to teach himself patience.

Garak brought his mouth down to his penis, just starting to fill out in its nest of fur. He put it gently in his mouth and Julian whimpered. It hadn’t been much time since Julian first allowed this. He was proud of his erections—their readiness and persistence, their ability to please, their vitality—it amused Garak to hear Julian attribute the qualities he loved best in himself to his cock. He seemed to almost think it had magical, healing powers. And it was an amazing thing, but Julian seemed to only love it when it stood at attention, ready to serve. He didn’t want Garak nuzzling it when it shrank back against his body, holding it in his hand, or coaxing it with his mouth. Not at first, anyway. He came to allow it when he saw how it delighted Garak. Now it seemed like it pleased him, moved him. Garak loved the soft noises he made in the first moments of contact.

Julian was now fully engorged. Garak savored the feeling of sliding his mouth down and back around his length, but he knew that tired as they both were, there wouldn’t be a second round tonight, so he quickly reached for the bottle of lube and began to prep Julian. He slid in one slick finger, two, started to add a third when Julian stopped him. “It’s enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want it rough. Fuck me Elim, now.”

Garak smiled and moved up, spread Julian’s legs and was stopped again. “I want to be on my stomach.” He pulled one leg around so Garak was no longer between them and flipped over. “Like this.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a pillow to bite.”

“That won’t be hard to find. Now shut up and fuck me.”

Garak had everted while pleasuring Julian and his own penis was ready, slick with its own lubricant. He still shook his head sometimes at the failure of human evolution that made them require extra. Julian had told him that female humans produced their own lubricant, but depending on different factors it still was helpful to have some artificial on hand. He stopped his musings on comparative anatomy as he pushed past the ring of muscle at Julian’s entrance and felt the silken heat surround him. Oh, this was good. He continued sliding in slowly as Julian wiggled and pushed up and finally just demanded, “All the way! Faster!” Bossy as ever, and Garak couldn’t resist.

Her thrust into Julian, who raised his arse eagerly meeting him, continued until he felt Julian clenching around him, rode him through his orgasm. Knowing how sensitive Julian could get he began to pull out slowly, making Julian cry out, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I need it. Oh, God Elim, come inside me, please.”

The desperation in his voice and the clenching of his body sent Garak over the edge, and he came. He stayed in as long as he could. After he withdrew he ran a finger through the semen dribbling out of Julian. “Messy.”

“Mmm. Come here.”

“Shouldn’t we clean you up?”

“Later.”

Later that night, after showers and new bedding and drinks, when they were in bed with the lights off, Julian said, “You can’t hurt me, you know.”

“I don’t understand. I have.”

“No, you can cause me pain, but you won’t ever damage me.” He laughed ruefully. “I’m virtually indestructible.”

“My dear. Even for you that’s rather hubristic.”

“No, it’s honest. Anyway, good night.”

Garak didn’t give much thought to his words. He held Julian in his arms and drifted off to sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re a different color, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, sunshine on Risa. I quite enjoyed it.”

Garak leaned forward and spoke softly. “How far does the color change go? I’m rather curious.”

“Mm. Garak. We’re in public.”

There was a look of unease on Julian’s face that had nothing to do with their current location in the replimat. Garak thought he saw some of the golden color drain from his face. It made no sense. Julian, the most shameless man he knew, who laughed or got angry when Garak expressed discomfort at shows of affection or emotion in public. Garak didn’t know what was happening, but his guard went up, fast.

“Of course, my dear. Did you have a good rite of separation?”

Garak saw the suspicion in Julian’s eyes, then the softening as he saw that Garak was sincere.

“Yes. I did. It was surprisingly meaningful. I’ve never had any spiritual practice; being with Leeta has been a stretch in many ways. It was hard for me to respect her faith at times. I knew this rite was important to her, and I thought it a good idea psychologically…” he hesitated, “but I didn’t expect a spiritual effect on me. I...saw myself differently after. Leeta thinks the prophets are speaking to me, but then she would. I don’t know where it came from, but something happened. There are things I need to examine in myself. Changes I need to make.”

They sat silently. Garak did not want to ask, but wanted to wait to be told even less. “Are you ending things?”

“No! No, the opposite. I want to begin something. But I want to begin it better than I am now.”

“Better? My dear. You are already a far better man than I could ever deserve.”

Julian reached for his hand. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You are wonderful, Elim. You are so giving, and you’ve brought me to experiences…but I never really talk to you. No, don’t, I’m not accusing. I’m saying that I never share my feelings. Stop. I can see it happening, you’re going to dismiss that as either Star Fleet, Bajoran, or sentimental. But it matters, Elim, if we’re to do this.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’d like...to put things on hold. For awhile. While I sort myself out.”

Garak couldn’t imagine any sorting that wouldn’t include sorting him right out of the doctor’s life. But he wasn’t going to plead. And maybe there was even hope in this. Maybe Julian was actually attempting to ready his heart for love. It seemed impossible, but what choice did he have but to wait?

For the first few weeks of their separation their friendship continued strong, perhaps even deepening. Tiny shoots of hope pushed their way up in Garak’s heart. Then it froze. Julian was different. He still bantered over literature, still smiled charmingly, but something was gone behind his eyes. Garak waited for an opportunity to confront him, but it seemed Bashir was deliberately denying him the chance. He managed to have a third party present at meals, or an urgent need to return to the infirmary whenever Garak caught him alone. Something had changed, and as the weeks went by, Garak’s feelings went from concern to alarm. He stopped wanting to confront Julian. He sensed danger, a sensation that would not be quelled by his constant reminders to himself that this was Julian. Something was deeply wrong. Somehow, this wasn’t his Julian, and he was afraid.

It was when he regained consciousness in a Jem'hadar prison camp that his fears were at once validated and relieved. Julian was there. His Julian. The Julian with his face closed to him had been a Changeling. His Julian was here, beautiful and beloved. It took all of his self-discipline not to throw himself at his feet and weep with relief. It all made sense. His Julian was here, thinner than he should be, dirty and disheveled, but real.

Tain, whose attempted rescue was the reason Garak was presently in a Jem’hadar prison camp, facing what was likely the end of his life, was there as well: dying, but querulous, disdainful, and cruel as he ever was.

It was different, though, this time. This time Julian was there to hear him, and Garak felt strangely free as he shared the bitterness of Tain’s rejection. “Let that be a lesson to you, doctor. Sentiment is a weakness.”

“If so, it’s a lesson I’d rather not learn.”

With those words Garak saw the truth of Julian Bashir. It wasn’t naïveté; it never had been. It was a stubborn refusal to learn the lessons of turning away, of closing down, of closing your heart. It was an insistence on remaining open, in the face of whatever cruelty life presented. It was strength.

Then the words that it was the end, if he had goodbyes to say. Moments earlier, he hadn’t. He had been ready to finally give up on winning Tain’s approval and to close his heart, as Tain had so obviously done so many times. That was before Julian Bashir had looked at him, and told him that that lesson did not have to be learned, that Tain’s way did not have to be followed.

Garak gestured for Julian to go with him. To bear witness. To provide him with the strength to reach for this connection one last time. For Julian to hear him plead, “just this once, let me be your son.”

By the time they escaped, Garak was stripped bare. Julian knew everything now. All his weaknesses, all his shame.

He had not turned away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized today as I reread a favorite that I lifted, “Elim. So good. So beautiful,” from Prevailing’s amazing “Your mark has been made.” Apologies for accidental theft, it’s worked its way into my subconscious.

“We can go back to my quarters if you’d like, my dear.”

“No, I need to face it.”

“Not alone, you don’t.”

Bashir looked at him, smiled slightly and conceded the point. They walked to his quarters in silence. Garak put his hand on Julian’s lower back as he entered his access code.

“It all looks the same,” Julian said. He shuddered. “But then, I guess it would. He wouldn’t have needed to do much. I wonder where he went when he...liquefied. God, Garak. To think that thing was in here!”

They moved over to the couch. Bashir hesitated, and Garak took his hands. “Did he ever try…”

“No. Never. I imagine their intel wasn’t good enough to know to get close to me. Or perhaps it was good enough to know to stay away.” He wondered if Julian could see the murder in his eyes. “I sensed something. I’m sorry, dear; I should have done something.”

“How could you have? I had pushed you away.”

“No. I respected your wish to separate. It wasn’t because we weren’t still...intimate that I knew something was wrong. It was later. I should have pushed on that more.”

“Ah, well, we’re here now. Thanks to you.”

“Yes, something good came out of my need to please Tain, I suppose.”

“Garak. If you want to talk about what happened when...you let me see…” his voice was questioning.

“Yes. I will always be grateful to you for that—you gave me courage just sitting there. And now you know.”

“Tain was your father. Who was the man in the picture?”

“My uncle, who I believed to be my father for many years. Tolan. He was a good man. You would have liked him.”

Garak stood and walked to the replicator. “We know he wasn’t using this. Would you like tea? Your usual?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

They were silent as Garak brought over his tea. Julian took a sip, set it down and said, “My God, Garak. I want to light things on fire! I’m just so angry!”

“That could be arranged, I suppose.”

“I’ve never felt so powerless. In that camp, knowing that thing was here, talking to my friends. Being me! I tortured myself imagining him talking to Miles, Jadzia. Not knowing what damage he would do. Would he use my friends trust of me to hurt them?”

“I hope you knew he would not get to me, or get out alive if he got close.”

“I did. For all my nightmares, if I started to picture him with you I shut it down immediately. I knew you would never...I don’t know how I knew. I trust you, Garak.”

“That seems highly inadvisable.”

“No. It isn’t.” He ran an enquiring finger up the ridge on Garak’s forearm. “I think I’ve had enough separation. How do you feel?”

Garak kissed him in response. For a little while they lost themselves in their kiss, until Julian spoke again. “You know what I did imagine? Most nights in fact?”

Garak shook his head and didn’t dare venture an answer. Julian moved his trailing fingers to his neck ridge.

“This. Decorated with drips of wax.”

Garak inhaled sharply. “You did say you wanted to set things on fire.”

“I did, didn’t I? You know, in many cultures fire, and smoke, are used to ward off evil spirits. I wonder if I could chase away the echo of that monster.”

“If nothing else, it could give you something to picture instead. And, Julian?” Garak slid to his knees by the couch. “I want it. Mark me. Claim me.”

“Oh, God, yes.” Julian took a fistful of his hair and pulled him back to look up. He met his eyes and Garak was thrilled with the fire he saw returned to them. “I’m going to go turn up the heat and get some things. You can undress when it feels warm enough to you. Then wait.”

The rising heat of the room, the sounds of Julian rattling about soothed him. He remembered the comfort of the heat, the pain. He wanted it. He removed his clothing and knelt, sat back on his heels, then bent forward with his arms outstretched in a pose of deep submission. He waited for Julian there. He hoped this would please him. He breathed slowly, deeply, relaxed his muscles and calmed his nerves, as he entered a state of deep, peaceful waiting. After awhile he felt Julian’s presence in front of him.

“Oh, Elim. So good. So beautiful. Yes, just like that. I’m going to mark you. I’m going to show you how much you belong to me.”

The splatter of wax hit his back from the air and he hissed in pain. Julian was still standing over him. This wasn’t a candle. He kept his forehead to the floor and waited. Julian poured more wax down his back, following the lines of his ridges. He heard the wax sloshing in some sort of container. Julian threw more, it hit his lower back and hips and the carpet. Garak had a momentary flash of appreciation that they weren’t in his quarters.

“Stay face down and stretch your legs out behind you.” Julian’s voice was rough and Garak scrambled to comply. Julian continued dribbling wax on him, on the backs of his thighs, his calves, and the tender unguarded place where his buttocks and thighs met. “Spread for me.” He sounded desperate. Garak took his cheeks in hands and obeyed, and was met with a drizzle of wax. It hurt; it was amazing; he wondered how Julian would get it out later. The floor was the only thing keeping him from everting. He moaned and lost all control, cried out.

“Please, Julian. Please. Please. This once. Please let me. Let me be yours.”

Julian fell to his knees and draped his body around Garak. “You are already mine. You are always mine.”


	9. Chapter 9

One morning, not long after their return and reunion, Garak received a terse message from Julian. “Plans cancelled tonight. Richard and Amsha on station. My parents.”

Garak knew little of human courtship rituals, let alone those from Julian’s specific cultural background—Earth was far less homogeneous than Cardassia. Perhaps meeting parents was the equivalent of proposing enjoinment. Or perhaps it was completely meaningless, and Julian viewed it as not worth the hassle. He wasn’t troubled by the absence of the invitation. The tone, however, nagged at him. He seemed angry. Garak also knew enough to know it wasn’t typical for humans to refer to their parents by their given names. And so he listened, eager to pick up any information about these unexpected guests.

What he heard: an arrogant doctor, a hologram model of Julian, interviews with all of the crew known to be close to Bashir. Garak was satisfied not to have made the cut; he had no desire for their relationship to be public knowledge, yet somehow it rankled. He heard that Julian’s parents had been brought to the station to fill-in more information, as though they could offer anything meaningful about the son who had never mentioned them in five years.

Then Julian appeared at his door in distress, saying the most alarming things about himself. He was leaving Star Fleet, resigning in the morning. There was no containing the news, soon all of DS9 would know what he was: a freak, a monster.

None of it made sense. From what Garak could gather from Julian’s disjointed narrative, he had been subject to some suspect and illegal genetic treatments as a child. The pain he showed as he revealed this sent Garak into a rage. He wanted to exact vengeance on the parents who had done this to him. But why was he required to leave Star Fleet?

Julian kept returning to the word unnatural, as if that made any sense in a world of replicators and transporters and dermal regenerators. Apparently, however, Star Fleet had lines as to which aspects of nature could be defied, and which couldn’t, and Richard and Amsha had crossed them. It seemed these lines were less about protecting people from the treatments, and more about protecting the Federation from those treated, showing him again how hollow Federation values were.

He tried to hold him, but was pushed away. “How did you not suspect?” Julian demanded. “You must have known there was something wrong about me!”

He would not hear there was nothing wrong about him, nothing at all. There was something deeply wrong with a system that would treat its citizens this way, and with parents who would do this to a child. Julian referred to Richard as his architect. This struck something very deep, and painful, in Garak.There was no line Tain wouldn’t have crossed in making him the perfect instrument. But he was Tain’s bastard. Would a Cardassian father who claimed his son do those things? He could never know. He didn’t have one. “Let me help.”

Julian shrank further into the corner of the sofa, as if help were punishment.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Garak had never heard him so hopeless. “Deep Space 9 is one place you can be safe, and after tomorrow I won’t be able to be here. This is it, Garak. This is the end. I was an idiot for hoping there was any other future. I was always running, always knew it would catch me. It has.”

Garak inched over slowly, until Bashir let him put his arms around him, then relaxed somewhat into his arms, and finally collapsed against him. They did not talk anymore. After some time Julian’s breathing became shallow and even. Exhaustion had won out. Garak carried him to bed and he didn’t wake.

When the crisis was resolved the next day, he seemed more weary than joyous. “They’re letting me stay. I suppose I have more utility to them here than locked away somewhere. It was understood that I’m not to flaunt my genetic status, and I’ll be tolerated here.”

Garak took him in his arms. “You’ll be here, where you are loved by so many.”

“My father took a deal. He’s going to prison. I told him I’d visit him.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know.”

Julian walked into Garak’s bedroom and threw himself face-down on the bed. “I want to sleep for days. I owe Miles some time though, he was wonderful to me last night. I talked to him before I came to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of interfering. But is there anything I can do for you before you go see him?”

Julian flipped over and sat up. “This is the end of the line for me, Garak. They’re happy enough to keep me here, but there won’t be any movement closer to the heart of the Federation. There’ll be no promotions, no awards. Oh, they didn’t say it, but I know enough to know I’ll be Star Fleet’s dirty little secret.”

Garak joined him on the bed. “As ends-of-lines go, this one isn’t so bad.”

“That’s not what you said three years ago when you were holding a a hypospray of triptacederine to your neck.”

“Things change. You changed things, my dear.”

Julian smiled slightly. “I’m sorry to be going on. You lost so much more.”

“I lost what was my life up until that moment. Some of it needed losing. We don’t know what could be possible, my dear. Deep Space 9 may not be the end of the line for either of us.”

“You still dream of going back, don’t you?”

“It sustains me. You will find something to hope for that gets you through, too.”

Julian looked at him with warm, soft eyes. “I think I already have.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

“You really never noticed anything wrong about me? I let you get quite close.”

They had eaten dinner and were lounging on the couch, still processing the emotions of the day.

“Wrong? I still don’t understand what you mean by that. You’re brilliant, compassionate, occasionally foolish in ways that bely your intelligence—what could possibly be wrong?”

“Well, for one, I’m stronger, physically, than I’ve any right to be.”

Garak smiled. “I did wonder about that. I thought it might be a human sexual response. I don’t have any basis of comparison.”

“No. No, that’s just me. And that was me holding back.”

“Oh my. How strong are you, doctor?”

“Garak! Is this turning you on?!”

“Maybe just a little. Is that so bad? Are you never turned on by my physical differences?”

Julian ceded the point. “You’re right. Every time you evert for me I feel like I’ve discovered a new solar system.”

“Exactly. Your strength, this opens up so much….I can lift you, you’re so slight, and I love the feeling of you in my arms when I do. But I’m rather thick—no, it’s just the truth—and solid. I hardly have the body that’s ever let me be swept off my feet.”

Julian knew a request when he heard one. He reached his arms under Garak’s knees and behind his shoulders, and lifted him off the sofa. “Like this?” He held Garak in his arms like an image of a rescued damsel in an old earth movie. Garak closed his eyes in satisfaction.

“Yes. Yes, just like this.”

“Oh, my lovely Elim. I can just carry you in my arms. I could take you anywhere right now. I’d like to take you to the bedroom and show you more of my strength. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Garak bit back a moan. Really, he ought to be embarrassed. But he wasn’t. He was thrilled. “Yes, yes,” he said, and relaxed further until he felt weightless in Julian’s arms.

Julian set him down gently on the bed. “I want to make love to you. Like this, you on your back—I want to ride you until we both can’t take it anymore.”

The pressure to evert was overwhelming, and Garak surrendered to it. The air felt cool on his newly released cock, but not for long, as Julian wrapped his hand around it.

“Oh, look at this. I have you in hand. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” He slid his hand up and down Garak’s length. “Mmm. I do love to ride this. But tonight I want to be inside you.”

“Yes, yes Julian.”

“Good. Let’s get you ready.”

He took his time, until it seemed more about teasing than preparing. When neither of them could wait, he slid into Garak, slowly entering him all the way, pulling almost completely out, and doing it again. “I could do this all night.”

Garak was happy, hours later, that he didn’t make good on his promise. Eventually the desire for an intense moment of pleasure became stronger for both of them than the desire to go all night. Garak was sore, covered with Julian’s sweat, and thoroughly wrecked by the time they finished.

Afterwards they were dazed, drunk off each other and shining with afterglow. Julian spoke first, “I always imagined a disaster if I were found out. Even if I let myself imagine understanding, I didn’t imagine this. The way you responded, Garak! I’m glad we were together before or I might think you were only attracted to my enhanced strength.”

“No, my dear, merely a side benefit. If it disappeared tomorrow I’d be happy to have had tonight, but that’s all. I love you no matter what form your body takes.”

“Thank you. Wait, did you just say you love me?”

“I did, didn’t I? It’s true, you know.”

“I’m glad, because I love you.”

“Oh! Well. What do we do about it?”

“I don’t quite know. It’s an astonishing piece of luck to find someone who sees you at your worst and still is drawn to you.”

“You mean how you responded to me, of course.”

“That too. But you know my worst secret, and here we are together, in the one place that will have us. Deep Space 9 seems to be the place where all the outcasts of the Empire are irresistibly drained.”

“Are you acknowledging that the Federation is an empire, my dear?”

“No! It’s a reference from a book I love. But maybe. Maybe it has more in common with old imperial Britain than I’d like to admit. But let’s not talk politics when we’ve just discovered we love each other!”

“I imagine we’ll never stop talking politics.”

“Or anything else. You know, you’re the only person who’s never expressed irritation at how I go on!”

“Well, I feel perfectly capable of keeping up. You’re never going to out talk me, my dear.”

Julian smiled and pulled Garak closer. “But back to the point. We love each other. What do we do about it?”

“I suppose we stay together. I don’t think either one of us will do as well without the other.”

“What about your desire to go back to Cardassia?”

“What about your desire to have a soaring career in Star Fleet?”

“Hardly the same. We know that isn’t going to happen….Ah. I’m sorry, Elim.” He paused. “I’d go with you, you know. It sounds insane, but if it came to it I’d follow you home.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you. And it will never happen anyway.”

“It wouldn’t be asking. And you never know. The future is far from certain.” Julian paused and pulled away slightly to be able to meet Garak’s eyes. “I’m as certain as I can be, though, that I want to face it with you.”

It was hard to believe in the truth of that. It seemed impossible. But at this point Garak had no idea of what possible even meant anymore. He took three deep breaths, then made the leap. “Yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
